


Red

by Marzi



Category: Power Rangers Dino Charge
Genre: Alternate Universe, Brainwashing, Evil Wins, Good Going Evil, M/M, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 06:37:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8276279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzi/pseuds/Marzi
Summary: I am Red.
I was born screaming, and those that created me will die that way.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kendall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendall/gifts).



There is a scab in my thoughts where my name used to be. Picking at it only makes me bleed, and it seems an ever aching, unending wound. I am told my name is unimportant. I am told I am nothing without my orders, but there is something in the blood. Whether it is real, a memory, or just a sore thought, it is red.

 

I am Red.

 

I was born screaming, and those that created me will die that way.

 

Though all living things have no choice in their creation, I feel I at least fought against mine. Where else does spite come from? How else would I look upon a brand new, unfamiliar world, and know I hated it? Hated those that brought me into it?

 

Those that made me are resigned to my self-appointed title, and they have not yet realized that I am ready to be without them. I am free, though they cage me every day. At night they bring me forth with their misfit band, and it is another old wound, another ache, that tells me I knew them Before. Whoever I was, I knew of this group, and back then, I pitied them.

 

I do not pity them as I stretch each night, reaching farther and farther with my new potential, getting ready to strike. Something tells me they are easily defeated. That I have done so in the past. That they dare to cage me now, after I have bested them, is maddening. But then, they have me caged, they have my name, while I do not.

 

Whatever it is they hold over me, they must be destroyed.

 

They demand things of me, zords, engrams, but I do not understand. I accomplish the tasks set before me without them. Still, I must strike soon. While they revel in having me on their leash, not utilizing these things they think I know seems to be wearing on them. They are growing tired of me just as I grow tired of them.

 

They will scream before I am through. Just like--

 

\--just like....

 

“ _Chase, you have to stop.”_

 

“ _No. How can you even say that? He's still out there!”_

 

_I'm here._ I'm here. _I'm here._

 

“ _He's gone. And he wouldn't want you to destroy yourself because of him!”_

 

“ _You don't understand Ivan. You don't--”_

 

_I'm here. I'm here. Oh god. Why don't they respond? Can't they hear me? Aren't I screaming? Why am I watching this? How? What are they doing?_

 

_They're looking, they're looking and it's only a matter of time before they find me. I'm not alone. I'm not alone. I'm not--_

 

They are dead.

 

They are dead and my body aches from battle but I don't remember. Memories are wounds, painful scabs, and when they tear, I forget. I did not want to forget this. I should not have forgotten. Did they scream? Did they rage? Did they cower? I should know!

 

The broken pieces left before me tear again. And again. And again. My rage is near blinding but I can still think. I can still remember. I can still only remember the destruction I wrought after. They are dead and I am free but something still hounds me.

 

I break the cage they kept me in, but even its destruction is not enough. I never thought its bars could hold me. Their destruction proves it could not. Something still gnaws at me, more memories, but this time I will not scratch. Something inside of them, far too much like my own blood, troubles me. Physical wounds do not bother me, I tend them when my body demands it, but the ache in my chest, at the very thought of those almost-memories, I do not know how to treat it. I do not know what to do with it, even if it exists.

 

I wander through the compound they kept me in, no longer limited in where I may walk. They had precious little, for all the battles I won for them. It is an empty cavern, one I know how to fill. The place where I was born looms, the only thing of note. My fist curls and I sneer at it, but I do not destroy.

 

There is power in birth, even an unwanted one.

 

I will bury that machine amidst the spoils of my glory.

 

I am Red. I will conquer. I will take everything of the world, as everything was taken from me. Just like--

 

\-- _a smile--_

 

_\--camaraderie, a team of colors so many colors--_

 

_\--a skateboard?--_

 

_\--a softly accented voice--_

 

_\--power in unity--_

 

_\--strength and companionship and lo--_

 

The world is bigger than my creators let me see. The machine of my birth, the empty halls of their base, the small pockets of the world I defeated for them. It is all so much greater than I knew. Than I am sure I even could remember. There is much to do, but it is all so simple.

 

So very little of this place actually fights back. Oh but it screams, and it wails. That is enough. _It should be enough._

 

Challenge. I need a challenge.

 

There is a different word that whispers in the back of my thoughts, but it is easy to ignore for I do not know it.

 

What would 'lonely' help me achieve anyway?

 

_There are great beasts, ancient beasts, and the power they wield--_

 

I stumble.

 

I have never felt such a weakness before. My heart quickens. Excitement, _fear_ , I do not understand it. This is the challenge I have sought. This is a power that I am fit to conquer. That will fill the caverns of my resting place. That will bury the machine I was born from.

 

I yell, and unexpectedly, my opponent hesitates.

 

Surely screaming would not defeat them?

 

They lower their fighting stance, and that is wrong-- WRONG--

 

Suddenly the faceless thing has a face. It has a face and I know it, more than a memory. I feel it, like that ache in my chest. I do not flee, though every instinct screams that I should.

 

“Tyler--”

 

No. NO. NO.

 

I AM RED.

 

_RED._

 

My blind rage lasts only a moment. The power behind the name makes me hesitate, and I find my hands around his throat. I loosen my grip but I do not release him. The strength in how he spoke, the colors behind such a simple naming give me pause. This man means something. Can be something. There is a memory of power with his face. Something greater than myself, and I have already destroyed my enemies.

 

What could I accomplish if I take him with me? If that faint notion of power, if that knowledge of something we once were, could be utilized?

 

I let go of him and he relaxes. He believes something else is about to happen. He trusts me though, and that is important. That is all I need to know to make him stay. A possessive, prideful thing wells in my chest as I consider that. Him. With me. That is the best outcome imaginable, and I did not even realize it until now.

 

In the absence of continued violence, he speaks again. “You're _alive..._ how...”

 

Of course I am alive. I am very young, by the whole memories. I am very powerful, by my actions. I am Red.

 

I will live much longer. I am no longer alone.

 

_Riley and Ivan walk into the room, and Chase just smirks. I would be embarrassed, but that would just let my friends--_

 

Friends? Friends?

 

\-- _laugh at me. I smile and wave and try not to smooth down my hair. My fingers will only make it worse._

 

“ _And if you hadn't heard us coming?” Riley asks._

 

_Chase throws his arm around my shoulders. “We didn't.”_

 

“ _Honestly you two, you knew we were coming right back--”_

 

Never found me. Never, _never,_ but I have found them--

 

–“ _you couldn't have just waited until after the briefing?”_

 

“ _Where's the fun in that?”_

 

There is joy. Something foreign, but ingrained. Happiness?

 

He hesitated, but it was easy to subdue him, to escape those that came at his cries. Their names stirred something else in me, but my focus on _him_ kept me grounded. Kept me capable. Brought me back here. He woke when I placed him in the machine, and though his voice cracked his tension, with nerves, he seemed to understand I would not hurt him.

 

Utterly destroy his memories, rebuild him as he should be at my side, but never hurt him.

 

He screamed, but I sat with him, and eventually he quieted. Perhaps I blacked out when I was born too, or perhaps my presence soothed him. He is coming into this world wanted, maybe that gave him peace.

 

He can barely stand when it is done, but he does not shy from me. He welcomes my hand as I pull him from the machine.

 

“I am--”

 

“You do need a name.”

 

He listens. Of course he listens. If he did it before the machine, he will definitely do it now.

 

I put my hand on his face, and he leans into the contact. “You are _mine._ ”

 

He agrees.

 

_Being a Ranger elevates. Being a leader isolates. Both mean I am apart from most everyone around me. Still. I am not apart from him. My hand tightens around his, and Chase turns to smile at me._

 

He stays with me, but taking his memories means I cannot ask him about the others. About those names he shouted when I took him. About those names that stir a familiarity, like his face. Not with the same strength, not with the same wanting pain as the knowledge of _him_ , but there is something missing.

 

My halls are less empty for his presence, but his being with me invites other shadows. Peels at more wounds. There are more gaps, more tears, more windows into what I once was. I bleed for each stolen piece returning itself to me. The insistent press of fumbling fingers against old bruises. What is mine does not need to know such anguish.

 

I put him through the machine several times. He is always quiet through the process now.

 

I do not need his words. I just need his presence. I feel bold with him at my side. Now is not the time to stumble across an opponent. I have something they will come for. Perhaps they would even come for me, but if he did not think I was alive, why would they?

 

They will try to take him, but I will be waiting.

 

_Getting caught alone was so damn stupid it was almost ridiculous, but I know how to stay calm. There are those that will come for me, and it lets me stare into the face of my captors without hesitation. I have support. I have others._

 

_And then there was the machine..._

 

There are others, but they are unnecessary. I have my core, I have my beating heart, as it lives outside me. I have my power. My added strength as it moves and breathes around me. Ivan and Riley no more, they are my fists. My teeth. Mine to command through battle. Mine to hold in my no longer empty halls. I am Red, fractured by the light and turned into so many colors. The darkened bruise, the broken teeth, the twisted tissue--

 

_We_ are unstoppable. We will conquer the world.

 


End file.
